


Til Death Do Us Part

by Eden Marie Dawson (GodDamnedPlums)



Series: Domestic Destiel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Character Death, Dark Dean Winchester, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Violence, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodDamnedPlums/pseuds/Eden%20Marie%20Dawson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What had started out as a mistake had turned into friendship, which had eventually blossomed into love. That love, which had grown so beautifully, wilted with the infection of a darkness that rooted itself so deep, there was no hope for Dean, nor myself, to ever climb back out of the hellish pit that we had fallen into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Til Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> This is a seriously Dark!Dean fic. Heed the warnings!

I could feel the gravel shifting beneath my skin as my shirt ripped open from the impact of my fall. The small rocks bit into my flesh as I skid the distance of the driveway, until I came to an abrupt halt by slamming into the outside of the shed. My palms stung as I braced them on the ground to give myself the leverage I needed to stand up on my own. My attacker was coming toward me again, at a slow and steady walk. He was teasing me. I was his prey and he knew I had no where to run.

But I knew how to fight.

My fists were raised, and my legs had spread out into a defensive crouch. I heard him laugh, and the sound nearly curdled my blood. He was mocking me, the bastard. My eyes were locked on the nearly unscathed form of my attacker as he approached; I wouldn't let my guard down for a second. My life depended on this.

The first few throws I was able to dodge, but when a blow came to the center of my back, I felt myself hitting my knees. Hazy as my vision had turned, I could still make out the fresh stream of blood that now painted the ground in a splatter before me. I wouldn't go down yet. I had to keep going.

Before I could get up, however, he came at me again. This time, he had something thick and heavy wrapped around his hand. When it connected with my jaw, I discovered quickly that it was an old chain he had put in the trunk of the impala some few years ago. For the life of me, I couldn't quite remember the reason as to why he'd even picked up the rusted piece of junk in the first place. But, he had just smiled at me and told me that you could never tell when you might need something like that. Right now, I couldn't tell if the copper I was tasting was rust from the chain, or blood from where I had bit down into my tongue.

The same hand came at me again, and this time I felt the rusted metal shredding into the skin of my upper arm. I went down, but I had braced myself on one hand, so that the damage wouldn't be as severe. All I succeeded in doing with that stroke of brilliance was rubbing my palm raw on the gritty driveway.

I was still on my hands and knees when his boot connected with my gut. The air rushed out of me in a gush, and with another kick, he sent me tumbling back into the shed once again. The sheetmetal made a creaking, groaning sound as if angered for being shaken so violently. I could faintly hear my own groan of protest leaving my lips, but it was getting hard to hear anything. My eyesight was already dimming.

I soon found myself dangling about a foot off the ground. His hand had found my hair and jerked me to my feet, but he didn't stop there. He kept lifting me up, until I was face to face with his darkened emerald eyes. He was only a few inches taller than me, but right now, I felt so small that he seemed twice my size. I forced myself to crack swollen, blackened eyes open to meet his deadly, venomous gaze.

He had mumbled something, but I was far too out of it to register just what it was. Blood was seeping from various wounds on my body, and the stench was so overpowering that I could barely contain the stomach bile that had collected in the back of my throat. I wanted to spit it right into his putrid, disgusting face, but something held me back.

This man wasn't always so revolting in my eyes. He was once a man I viewed as beautiful, charming and sweet. He was once known as my best friend, my lover, and my world. He was once the best thing to have ever come into my life. But one day, all that changed. I come home to him sitting on the porch, waiting on me. I hadn't thought a thing of it. That was when he first struck me. Right across the face, he had reared back and slapped me hard across the cheek. Tears of pain and confusion burned my eyes but he just turned around and walked inside the house. Quietly, I followed.

It was the first time he had hit me, and for a long while, it was the only time. Until one morning, things started to go sour quickly. He would come home angry, and take his frustrations out on my body. Be it physically abusive or sexually, I had went from being his one and only to his personal punching bag. Foolishly, I had stayed. I guess love makes you do some pretty foolish things.

Right now, I couldn't tell if he still held any regard for me at all, or if the monster that had eaten my best friend had completely taken over. I could see nothing in the emerald eyes I once loved so much. The smile I'd fallen in love with was twisted and contorted with maniacal laughter. I didn't know what had happened to him, but I knew that if I wanted to keep my life, I would have to fight. I would have to defeat the monster inside.

The freehand of my once lover was wrapped tightly around my throat; I was quickly losing air as well as conciousness. But I had a weapon. A secret weapon I had been saving to use in only an emergency. I withdrew the shears I had hidden in the back of my boot, as inconspiculously as I possibly could. I had hidden them there when I had heard the impala's tires squealing across the asphalt of the road in front of our once-loving home. I could tell that he was angry; I could practically see the waves of fury rolling off of his body as he slammed the door shut, so hard that the windows began to tremble with the force. I'd managed to slip the shears into the back of my rainboot, having slid them on to combat the softened ground and mud puddles that had formed near the shed. Since I was still struggling to get his hands off me, or at least loosen them enough so that I could suck in a much needed breath, kicking my heel up enough to get the shears didn't prove to be much of a problem.

I clasped the shears tightly in my right hand. If I was going to do this, I needed to do this quickly, for fear of not getting another chance. With all my remaining strength, I shoved the blades of the garden shears into the chest of my attacker. My lover. His grip loosened, almost instantly, giving me the chance to squirm until I could drop back to my feet. My legs almost threatened to give out beneath me. I couldn't afford that, however, not now. Not ever.

"Forgive me, Dean...."

I couldn't forget the look of shock mixed with horrified anger that lay frozen upon his face as I thrust the rusted blades of the garden shears into the hollow of his throat. I wanted to scream, but the sound died in my throat, swallowed up by the fresh wave of bile that had swarmed against my tongue. There, on the ground before my feet, all that I had been living for, took his last, stuttering breath.

I hit my knees. Whether it was the physical beating that he had delivered that my body couldn't stand, or the emotional turmoil my heart wouldn't withstand, I knew I couldn't live through this endeavor. I wouldn't live through it. I mustered the little strength I had kept, to crawl to the body of my broken partner. Under his arm, with my head on his chest, I lay still, to take my own final breath.

What had started out as a mistake had turned into friendship, which had eventually blossomed into love. That love, which had grown so beautifully, wilted with the infection of a darkness that rooted itself so deep, there was no hope for Dean, nor myself, to ever climb back out of the hellish pit that we had fallen into. I closed my eyes, laying my broken body with his, so that we looked as if we were merely sleeping. Two lovers, locked forever in a blissful slumber. 

I hadn't been able to save Dean from the monster within, but as I had promised him on the day that I took his name, I was in this with him, til death do us part.


End file.
